The Prince and Me: The True Story
by Riley Clearwater
Summary: Vivian Davenport embarks on an epic adventure in Oxford, England for a study abroad. She makes new friends, embraces the British lifestyle, struggles with unrequited love, and can't seem to shake the feeling that she's falling for the last guy she ever thought possible - a British royal. Part Prince & Me inspiration/part true life experiences. Work in progress, be kind!
1. Chapter 1

My hair was frozen. Literally frozen.

I reached up to feel my long brown hair, sticking out behind me, and crunched it between my gloved hands. I just couldn't believe it. I grew up in Pennsylvania and, yeah, the winters could be bad now and then. But this? This brought a whole new meaning to "harsh" winter. What would Vickers say?

I mentally went down the list of grievances my roommate would have against all of my terrible decisions today as I made my way up Heart Attack Hill in the subzero temperatures.

First and foremost, she'd tell me I should've worn a hat to protect my hair from the weather. Then she'd comment on my poor choice of footwear. I looked down at my sparkly flats, now completely soaked through from the snow and ice. The knee high socks I wore under them were of little use now. I tried to wiggle my toes to get feeling back into them, but I knew at this rate I wouldn't feel my toes again until I took a hot shower this afternoon. Which would be the moment when Vickers would throw some kind of special conditioner treatment over the shower door and tell me to use it on my previously frozen hair.

Ah, Vickers. I was really going to miss her.

I crested the hill and barely spared a glance either way before hastily crossing the street. Vickers would also have something to say about my canny ability to be late to most everything. She wasn't wrong, but what's a minute or two here and there? Granted, Dr. Mannard did warn us he'd lock the door if we were late today, but really, who was he kidding?

The more I thought about the short, crazy-haired, Irish Catholic professor turning the lock as I arrived to take my final, the faster my numb feet seemed to move. I didn't even remember walking through the Oak Grove; I was suddenly coming upon the history building. Usually, I'd take a moment to admire the historic structure; its large windows, the formidable simplicity of it.

But today, I hurried inside the heavy door and was met with a blast of oil heat. Its heaviness settled upon me, and I started unwinding my scarf as I took the stairs two at a time to the second floor. Exiting the stairwell, I glanced down the long hallway at all the unused lockers on either side. To me, Keith Hall always looked like an old high school. Theoretically it was, but not in the usual sense. The building was used as a Normal School, where teachers in Western Pennsylvania would learn to teach students in a training school.

I could see Mannard's classroom door was still open, thank God. I slowed as I approached the door and was met by Dr. Mannard's smiling, albeit knowing, face.

"Vivian. You made it. Just barely," he said, pointedly. I gave him a nervous laugh and headed for my seat in the back corner.

Andy and Dan were already in their seats. Andy gave me a smile and a nod while I sat down next to him; Dan just sat there with his chin resting on his fists. The only acknowledgement I received from him was an eyeball glance in my direction as I walked past him to my seat. After what happened last night, you'd think I'd get a little more than that.

I took off my gloves and coat and laid all of my things on the radiator next to my desk. There was really no pleasure equal to putting on warm clothes right before you needed to brave the elements again. I slipped off my shoes and pressed my wet feet against the bottom of the radiator, in an effort to dry my socks. Andy saw what I was doing and shook his head, chuckling.

" _What?"_ I mouthed to him.

"Alright," Dr. Mannard announced, calling our attention to the front of the room, "I think that's enough waiting. If you don't know it by now, you won't know it when you get to the essay section. You guys know the drill by this point. Term matching first. Then your short essays. Pick three of the five and be sure to tell me _why_ it is significant. And, of course, the long essays. Choose two of the four."

As he handed out the tests, he continued, "I want it known that I was nice to you all this time around." My snort joined the other quiet laughs that rumbled through the otherwise silent room. "Alright, you have the entire class period to work on this. Good luck."

* * *

"How was Mannard?" Vickers asked over a steaming cup of chai tea. We had all retreated to the local coffee shop, where I spent the majority of my days either hanging out with friends, reading a book, or doing school work. I was sipping my latte, chancing a glance at Dan over the top of my mug. I knew he wouldn't look up at me; he never did. He'd act like I wasn't even there until everyone else was gone. Then he'd chat with me, with only one word answers; as if he didn't really care what I thought or had to say. Then he would likely suggest we head back to his place. But until then, he'd ignore me.

Andy spoke up first, "I was fine until I got to the short essay. I couldn't remember the third method of transport for the Market Revolution. And of _course_ Mannard would put some religious movement question on there that no one studied."

"I did that one," I chimed in.

"That's because you can mention Moravians in it," said Dan. I gave him a dirty look, as I typically did when he made a jab at my lesser known religion.

"Yeah, well, after George Whitefield, what did it really matter?" Andy continued. Then looking at Vickers, "I'm not expecting anything better than a B. What about you? Matt told me Moore was especially cruel this year."

Vickers nodded and discussed her Ancient Civ final with Andy. Dan was texting someone, holding his phone under the table, not paying attention to anyone around him.

My eyes wandered over his face. His long, dark eyelashes. I could remember how his eyes would change suddenly when we were alone. His gaze would intensify and his eyelids would relax. My eyes wandered down to his straight nose and I could remember the feel of his nose pressing into my skin as he ran kisses up my neck. Then I looked at his full lips. I remembered tugging on his lower lip while we kissed. Feeling his stubble prick my lower lip and chin. My face was growing hotter by the minute. I forced myself back to the conversation at hand and did my best to ignore Dan's obvious presence so close to me.

"What are you doing for lunch?" I asked Vickers. It was Friday, so the lower dining hall would have grilled cheese and tomato soup.

"I have to swing by the library to print a paper for Pre-Law. Might just grab a sandwich from the cart in the Oak Grove on my way," she said.

I looked to Andy to see if he'd be free and suddenly felt a foot, steadily climbing up the inside of my calf. I glanced at Dan and saw him raise an eyebrow ever so slightly at me before looking back to Andy.

"Eh, I don't have anything to do until 2. What were you thinking?" Andy asked. I knew what Dan wanted and to be fair, I wanted it too. Things had really been heating up this semester after I crushed on him all last year. He was really showing an interest in me and I didn't want to mess it up.

"Oh, well, now that I think about it, I really ought to swing by the Study Abroad office and pick up some papers that I need to send out," I said, not entirely lying. I did have papers I needed to pick up, but it didn't have to be right then and there.

"Yeah, I should go with you to get mine. I've been procrastinating," said Dan.

"Big surprise," mumbled Vickers. She knew about the secret relationship Dan and I had, and she didn't approve of it. She kept telling me if he really liked me, he'd let other people know instead of asking me to keep it quiet. And now with the two of us going on a study abroad in a few weeks to the same university, she was becoming pretty vocal with her warnings.

She had yet to bring up last night, when I rolled into our apartment at 2am the night before a final. I had mumbled something to her about studying with Andy and Dan for Mannard's class and crawled into my bed, hoping she wouldn't ask for details.

I _had_ spent the better part of the evening studying for the final with Andy and Dan. But after Andy peeled off toward his apartment during our walk home, Dan pulled me down a darker walkway between the library and the music hall. He roughly pinned me against the brick wall and before I could say anything, his lips crashed down into me. He ran his hands down my sides and back up to undo the buttons on my pea coat. Before I knew it, he had his hands up my shirt; one on the small of my back pulling me closer to him and the other squeezing my breast over my bra. By the time we were done with our make out session, my mouth was dry and scratchy and my neck and face felt raw after his stubble scratched me for the better part of an hour.

"You're still on for tonight, right?" Andy asked us. He and his roommate, Will, were planning a mini party in their apartment. They were usually pretty low-key and often led to a night out down town in one of the bars.

"Paul is on his way now. He said he's bringing his roommate, Paul. You don't mind if we all come tonight? Paul said he brought something for you especially…whatever that means," Vickers told Andy.

"No problem," replied Andy. Then he looked to me, "You're not backing out tonight. I won't let you." I assured Andy I'd be there and got up to leave with Dan in tow.

* * *

We silently made our way back across campus. I blew on my latte to spread its warmth up to my face. The wind was beginning to pick up; stinging my face as it whipped past us. Dan seemed more concerned with creating enough space between us, lest someone figure out our secret. It always hurt when I noticed this, but I figured he just liked to keep our business to ourselves. I never had a boyfriend before; maybe this was what it was like.

My brothers never came home gushing about a girl. Come to think of it, I never gushed to them about a boy either, like I do with my friends, so maybe that wasn't the best example to use. He did tell me a lot about himself; his goals in life, his happy news, and the sad. Only a year ago, he called me as I was heading out to dinner with Vickers and I'd never forget our conversation; nor would I forget how utterly miserable he sounded.

"My dad died today."

I was speechless. My knees gave out and I ended up awkwardly crouched on the floor, my free hand grasping the wall to steady myself. Tears had sprung to my eyes and silently rolled down my cheeks. I knew this guy barely two months, and I was so heartbroken for him. I don't even think I thought of my own family; I just kept thinking about how much I wanted to comfort Dan, in any way I could.

"I…Dan, I'm so _so_ sorry. I'm sorry; I don't know what to say except that I'm so sorry." We were silent for another minute or so. I could hear him crying quietly.

"Can I do anything? Know that you can call me if you need anything," I said once I had pulled myself together. I had to be strong for him.

"Thanks," he whispered. "I gotta go now. Could you tell the others?"

"Of course."

"Okay. Bye, Vivian."

We talked about his dad a lot lately. Especially after the one year anniversary of his death. That was hard for me. I never lost anyone so close to me, so I had no idea what to say. I'd just let him talk and get out his feelings.

In unguarded moments, Dan often told me I was the only one he could talk to; the only one who understood. I knew what he meant; it was as if we were pulled to each other. Some kind of force between us that neither of us could explain.

I glanced his way now. Clearly, this was the cool, calm, uncaring Dan; walking next to his fellow classmate, with nothing to say. But I knew the real Dan.

The Dan whose heart sped up when he touched me. The Dan who took my hand and pulled me closer to him when a shady person passed us on campus at night. The Dan who collapsed in my arms after a long walk and cried on my shoulder. The Dan whose eyes would always seem to find mine when either of us entered a room. The Dan who clearly cared about me. The Dan no one else knew.

* * *

"Alright, Vivian, all you need at this point is a copy of your transcripts from the Bursar's Office and a receipt of payment from Financial Aid to present to Oxford once you're there. This is your acceptance letter. You will need this when you pass through Customs to prove you're there to study and you intend to leave. Do. Not. Forget. This." Amy passed me a folder, moving it up and down as she emphasized her last command.

I took it from her and opened it up, reading it to myself. Amy moved on to Dan's instructions to prepare for our trip.

It was six months in the making, but I was finally going to do it. I was going to study abroad in England. I couldn't wait. I'd develop an accent, ride on Harry Potter trains, wear cloaks, live in "houses", and maybe even meet a royal!

By the time everyone else was coming back to campus for the Spring Semester, Dan and I would be boarding a plane with another student from our university and heading to Oxford, England to study at Queen's College.

Dan introduced me to the other student, John Fridg, a week ago. Apparently, they went to high school together and had known each other most of their lives. Dan wasn't particularly talkative with his old friend, but then again, when was he ever talkative with anyone besides me?

Fridg, as he preferred to be called, was a short, pale, fair haired science major. He was shy but seemed to warm up to me once we started talking about our upcoming trip. He seemed alright, but even if he wasn't cool, I wouldn't be forced to see him all the time. His room was on the first floor of our dorm while Dan and I would have our own bedrooms in the same flat on the third floor.

My parents were becoming increasingly worried about my time abroad; I'd never been away from them for so long, let alone across an ocean with Skype and email as our only means of communication. I was a little concerned myself, being on my own in an unfamiliar city.

I looked away from my acceptance letter once Dan finished his conversation with Amy and we walked out of the office together. At the door, Dan moved ahead of me to hold it open. I looked up at him as I passed through and I realized I wasn't going to be alone in an unknown city, thousands of miles away from home.

I'd have Dan.


	2. Chapter 2: Welcome to England

**Hi everyone, sorry for the long hiatus in this story. I was wedding planning! I hope to keep up with this story, as my head has been swimming with ideas for it. I'm always hesitant to post a chapter because I read so many other fanfics on this site and am so impressed with everyone's writing. I can't help but feel inadequate! So please be kind and know I'm not a professional writer and never took classes in fictional writing. I just do this for fun :) This chapter is a bit short, but I wanted to get it out in the universe so I could move on to introducing you to Exeter College in the next chapter, and I SWEAR, the prince will finally make an appearance ;) Ta!**

 **P.S. Names of characters have changed since the first chapter, sorry for any confusion**

* * *

"Welcome to the United Kingdom, Miss Davenport." I took back my passport, thanked the border agent, collected my bags and moved forward to wait beyond the Border Control area for Dan and Fridg. Looking back at the crowd waiting to pass through customs, I couldn't believe it. Here I was. After all this time.

I couldn't pinpoint that moment in my life when I knew I wanted to visit England, but I'm certain it was immediately following the moment I discovered England had a royal family. Barbie became Princess Vivian. Ken was Prince Kenneth. They lived in the Barbie Mansion, which was renamed Bucking- _ham_ Palace. They had hundreds of servants and lavish dinner parties with wealthy dignitaries. They were the envy of the whole world. I began asking my mom to buy me tiaras and long flowing dress up skirts. I even turned an old twirling baton into a sceptre with ribbons. I'd walk around my room bestowing royal gifts upon my stuffed animals. My bookshelves were filled with royalty-themed fiction and all of my research projects in school were about England. The fantasy of becoming a princess became an obsession which I suppose I never quite grew out of completely; but obviously reality eventually kicked in.

In high school, I received a packet in the mail offering me a summer learning experience in Europe. My family seriously considered it for a while, but ultimately my parents decided we could not afford it. I can still remember holding the colourful, glossy brochure in my hands; the smiling teens looking up at me with Big Ben in the background. I cried as I dropped the brochure in the trash and promised myself I would get there one day.

One day I would walk along the Seine and eat ice cream like Audrey Hepburn in _Charade_. One day I would float through the canals of Venice on a gondola and bask in the Italian sun. One day I would sit in an old dirty pub and throw a ball for the friendly resident dog while watching a soccer match with rowdy fans. One day I would step off a plane and deeply inhale another continent's air; breathe in its history, its inherent difference. Today was that day, and I could feel the excitement coursing through my body.

This was my first time visiting another country; Canada didn't count. Having only officially set foot in England, it was surprising to already see so many differences from home. Once we collected our carry-on luggage and exited the plane onto the walkway, I was shocked by the warmth. I had to stop halfway through to remove my winter coat. The temperature was oddly warm for January; nothing like the 20 degrees it was back home where everything was covered in snow. It wasn't balmy, but if I were back at school and it was this warm, we'd probably be laying out in the Oak Grove enjoying the weather. It even smelled different here. An odd combination of damp and fresh; if that's even possible.

The British accent was suddenly all around me. For the first time in my life, I was the odd voice out. My accent abruptly seemed unintelligent. It was such an odd feeling to be embarrassed to speak for fear that someone would immediately identify me as not belonging here.

"All set?" Dan asked as he wheeled his bag towards me with Fridg at his side. I nodded and we passed through to the main airport area. It was only 6:30 in the morning, so the airport was rather empty. We were meant to be picked up by a school shuttle at eight, so we had some time to kill. While I searched for the restroom, Dan and Fridg found a place to sit down with enough room for our bags. There was even a television and a coffee counter nearby.

Once I found them, I dropped my two suitcases on the chairs next to our table. Lugging those beasts around for the last half hour was becoming tedious. I made my way to the little coffee counter and ordered a latte and a cinnamon Danish. The breakfast on the airplane was some kind of warmed ham sandwich and a fruit cup; not exactly a breakfast made in heaven. This latte and Danish would hopefully make up for it.

"Your table number?" The lady at the register asked.

"My table number?" I looked around confused, then saw that all of the tables had a small brass square on them at the corner, marked with a number. Dan and Fridg were at table 11. I told the woman and she nodded, "3 pound, 46."

Hokay, here we go. You got this Vivian. You stared at these bills for weeks since you brought them back from the bank. You practically knew them by heart now. So colourful and slightly plastic feeling. I fished out a twenty-pound note, handed it to the cashier and received my change – mostly coins, which annoyed me. I hate coins. They weigh me down and jingle in my pocket. I stashed my change in my pocket and went over to the table to wait with the boys.

"How'd it go?" Dan sarcastically asked me, nodding at my lack of breakfast.

"Alright. I suppose they bring it over to the table," I tapped the brass number on the table corner. "She only gave me one bill and the rest were coins. I can already tell that's going to be a problem." I pulled out the change to look at it closer. A ten-pound note, three two-pound coins, and some smaller coins. I noticed they didn't have the equivalent of a quarter but instead a 20 pence coin. That was interesting, and it had a neat heptagonal shape to them.

I could hear the news broadcast from the television above us; the lilting accent of the anchor soothing and melodic. Glancing up, I saw the forecast scrolling at the bottom of the screen. 7 degrees in Birmingham right now. 7 degrees Celsius. What was that conversion we learned in grade school? I knew you had to do something with the number 32 at some point.

The waitress appeared with my breakfast. She placed my Danish and latte on the table and I thanked her as she retreated to her counter once more. I pulled out my travel journal as the guys went up to place their orders. Time seemed to pass slowly while we waited for 8am to roll around. I managed to update my travel journal, finished my breakfast and discovered there had been quite a lot of rain in England this week. The TV was constantly showing images of flooded racing courses and streets.

At quarter of eight, we gathered our bags and walked toward the arrivals area where drivers were waiting with placards displaying their customers' names. I saw a grubby older man holding one reading "Oxford University" and figured that was our ride. The man introduced himself as Colin and led us outside to his waiting van. He took my two large bags and hoisted them with a grunt into the trunk and told me to hop in the front.

I went around to the side and opened the door only to be faced with the driver's seat. How could I forget? But it was still odd to see; the wheel on the wrong side of the car. I quietly closed the door and walked around the front to get into the other side, hoping no one noticed my mistake. A minute later, Colin climbed into the driver's seat as the boys got in the back and shut the door.

"So," Colin looked as me as he pulled out into the flow of traffic exiting the airport, "Yam gewin ta Exeter College in the hopes of meetin' the prince?" I laughed off his joke, trying to ignore the utter fear hitting me as we pulled out onto the left side of the road. This was perfectly normal for them, but I couldn't help the feeling that _I_ should be the one driving. The lack of a wheel and pedals on my side was just bizarre and unnerving.

Once I adjusted and became used to Colin's driving and the cars around us, I recalled what he said about the prince. He must have been joking about the American-girl-comes-to-England-to-marry-the-prince stereotype. It's every American girl's dream after all. It had to be a joke. The Prince of Wales had already graduated from some place in Scotland. And as far as I knew, the younger prince had gone into the military. Certainly, no one mentioned it while we were selecting our study abroad university and you'd think that'd be a huge selling point.

"It'll chus be too oars traffic," Colin said to us all as we approached a denser section of highway. I was really struggling to understand Colin. All I heard was something about traffic. I looked at him and said, "Oh, that's not a problem. We're used to traffic at home too." He gave me the oddest expression, as if I said something stupid. What did I say? What did _he_ say?

"Yow'll have ta fergive mar mouth. Dow quite werk when yow bin born in teh Black Country." Colin smiled at me and continued, "Arm sayin t'it wud tekk too oars teh reach teh school. Too oars _travel_." I nodded my understanding and decided it would be two silent _oars_. What if everyone talked like this at Oxford? How would I be expected to learn if I'd have to learn another English language first?

Dan and Fridg found Colin's accent guessing game hilarious and chatted with him the entire ride. I honestly think they only figured out four of his sentences. They feigned understanding the rest of the time. When we exited the highway, I assumed we were rather close to the college now. We went around a couple circles where, in America we'd have stop signs and four way intersections, and continued on a smaller road, lined by homes and bushes. The homes looked just like Harry Potter's home on Privet Drive. The similarities were uncanny. The front yards (if you could call it that; they were so small) were made up of gravel or pavers, complete with cars parked on them and trash cans sitting right there next to their front door. My mom would have killed me if I ever parked on the front yard or left the trash can where people could see it from the road.

Now that we were driving on a two-lane road, the uneasiness of being on the left side returned. Busses flew by us on the right side in the opposite direction and I tried my best not to flinch or fidget in my seat. I would likely get used to this eventually, but it clearly was not going to happen today.

Colin turned us down another road, this one less populated, and began to reduce speed. I glanced at a passing building and for the first time saw a sign with "Oxford University" at the top. On the left, cyclists travelled down a path running parallel to the road. Trees lined the middle median. Brick and stone buildings rose up on either side with leaded glass windows. Further down the road, the brick buildings were no more and the road squeezed down to one lane. Now only light tan stone buildings towered above us and encroached upon the street. We made another turn and started down a larger main road. A large circular building stood in the center of a square on the left and just beyond that, Colin pulled his van into a parking spot.

He looked at us and proudly proclaimed, "We're 'ere. Exeter College."

* * *

 **THIS STORY HAS MOVED TO FICTIONPRESS UNDER THE TITLE "THE OXFORD CROWN"**


End file.
